If I ruled the world, I would order everyone to live the lives of every single human being who has ever lived and will ever live. I’m done with explaining myself, it’s not getting us anywhere. And it’s exhausting. I was going to say every single one of us should write an autobiography to understand each other better. But actually being in someone else’s shoes will get the job done, that’s my best guess.
I won’t do it as a service to God or because I feel like I am morally superior to the people in power. It’s purely selfish. My need for certainty blurs my vision sometimes. Sometimes I have no energy to create any level of certainty for myself, can’t help it. Even a great deal of certainty gives its place to the biggest uncertainty. Life is one funny ma’fucker, as KDot says.
I would order us to go one by one; there’d be too much chaos to manage if all of us went at the same time. When someone was gone, others would need to use the time to meditate and take a long, careful look inside. But I guess we’ll need some sort of superpower for that, so I’d get the intelligent folks to collaborate and come up with an idea, to stop the time or something.
And I’d go first. I’d be my mother to have that anxiety when she chose to have me instead of abortion. I’d be my father at the time of either of his passing or mine, to reminisce about our relationship. I’d be my friend who’s unsuccessfully committed suicide twice to feel powerless and hopeless. And I’d be my grandma to take my dying son to the doctor with a newborn daughter in my hands.
I would be a concubine for a long time so that I’d have gratitude in the truest sense towards everyone who values me. I’d be a raped kid who had a nightmare of an experience so every sexual act is like a dream. I’d be someone who cheats on his wife and tells lies on top of lies so that I tell the truth for the thrill of it, even when I won’t be rewarded for it. And I’d be a highly competent and ambitious guy who’s my age and marry my dream girl so that I could see that she, too, is not flawless.
I would be a middle-aged woman who has agoraphobia so every walk around the city or in nature is mad special. I’d be terminally ill and feel pain to my fucking bones so that I don’t bitch about a headache. I’d be that blind woman whose both kids turned out to be addicts and ended up in prison so that every regular entity seems like a piece of art, something out of a poem. And I’d be that deaf uncle so that the voices that irritate me sound like life itself.
I would be illiterate and live in a tiny little world so that I devour the books I read. I would be the longest-serving solitary confinement prisoner so conversating with anyone is fascinating. And I’d be a rapper who’s trapped by a record label deal so that I’m like “wow, I get to create freely” everytime I start typing on a word document.
There would be countless more experiences. Then someone else would go, another would be up next. When we’re done, at last, we would talk about it. And when the discussion and exchange of ideas are over, everyone would go on to live their own lives. Again, I’d go first, I don’t wanna make decisions for everyone.
There would still be hurt, deception and resentment; it wouldn’t be no Utopia or Paradise, unlike Nas’ world; things still would be scarce. And we wouldn’t become a God like in Andy Weir’s The Egg; we would be more human, but more sympathetic and conscious.